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We told our children there was no Santa. They argued with us.

Tuesday, December 16, 2014

Today I'm over at Mamapedia, sharing how my husband and I thought we'd raise children without Santa, but our kids had other ideas. You can read more here.

If you are here from Mamapedia, welcome! You may be interested in my thoughts on refusing to hide, or why I don't want to give my children a faith that scares them (and what I'm doing to prevent it). If you connect with what you see here, you can follow along on Facebook. I'd also love to meet you! You can email me at awidemercy at gmail dot com.

When you want to do more than survive the early years

Friday, December 12, 2014

You and I, we're doing something hard. We're devoting our energy to meaningful lives, to sharing our souls with our children, to staying connected with our spouses, and to nurturing our wider communities. Then we're waking up and doing it again the next day. It's grueling work. Rewarding - yes. Beautiful and worthwhile - of course. Honoring to God and to the little people made in His image hanging onto our legs - to be sure. Still. It is really hard.

The question I ask myself most often is, how do I maintain my pace? How do I keep giving my best to the people I love? How do I keep showing up and being present, really present, day after day after day? How do I keep up with both the physical and emotional needs of my family? How do I keep pursuing the ideas and projects that nurture my soul? How do I do more than just survive the early years of mothering a large family? How how how how how?

How do you structure your kids' time? And how much does it really matter?

Sunday, November 30, 2014

"Stop. Don't panic. If you cry, you can't think about what you need to do next. Look around you, and find the next place to put your foot." She drew a ragged breath and clutched her dad's hand. Another breath. Then she looked down.

The next logical step was unclear, even to me. We'd chosen this trail because a guide had told us it was perfect for kids. In one sense, it was. They'd climbed the walls of caves and discovered waterfalls, and the views were enough to make even little boys pause.

But this trail was much too dangerous for small children. The boulders went straight up, the water below was fast and cold. For the last hour we'd picked our way through uneven rocks muddied with ice and slush. My kids are accustomed to the hard work of hiking, but this was too much for any of us. All the same, here we were. We'd gotten up the steep embankment somehow. Now we had to get down it.

I looked again at my little girl catching her breath beside her dad. She wasn't crying because she was scared. So far, her fears are limited to Swiper the Fox and the monster she insists lives in our laundry room. She doesn't understand how easily something could go wrong right now. Instead, she cried because she thought she couldn't do it. We knew she was wrong.

How the internet changed this highly insensitive parent's home

Saturday, November 8, 2014

Sorta Crunchy's post on the Highly Sensitive parent is making the rounds this week. Did you read it? Are you Highly Sensitive, too? I skimmed it and quickly realized I'm not. In fact, it's safe to say I am the Highly Insensitive Parent. I am the queen of throwing a disgusting diaper in the kitchen trash because "we're about to take it out anyway," then allowing it to fester a few hours before I actually take out the trash. Also? I love to hear kids playing. The squealing, the pounding on the floors, the sound of a bucket of toys upturned in another room - productive, cooperative play is the sound of success. It never bothers me. I read about the experience of Highly Sensitive parents, and I just could not relate.

Even so, it changed me.

When you need a superhero cape to get through your day: a guest post by Emily Pardy

Monday, November 3, 2014

image by TurtleCraftyGirl
“Are you okay? You seem irritated,” my husband asked me as I pulled out the laptop and harrumphed myself onto the couch.  

“I am irritated. I have no time for everything I need to do, want to do, and pretty much feel guilty whatever I choose to do no matter what.” I took a deep breath. I apologized. I silently prayed for grace and caught myself when my mind started to wander again. 

Right now, I'm the busiest person I know. I meet people all the time who feel exactly the same way. Frankly, I don't know anyone who isn't juggling too much or feels like their plate is too full most of the time.  

Multiple times a week I run into the “Who’s Busier?” conversation trap with my friends, family, co-workers, or classmates. As a wife, mom of two young children, blogger, full-time grad school student, part-time retail associate, and author editing my first book…well, let’s just say the competition for “Who’s Busier?” is steep with me.

Wednesday, October 29, 2014

I am sharing a story about my husband's brain injury over at Hello, Darling.

If you're here from MOPS, welcome! You can read more about my husband's accident here. You may also be interested in my thoughts on refusing to hide and living through a close call. If you connect with A Wide Mercy, I would love to hear from you by email (awidemercy at gmail dot com) or on Facebook.

We're so glad you stopped by!

sitting in that smudge between our hells and heavens

Friday, October 24, 2014

It's late, and I usually write early, but my mind has been thinking about this blinking cursor all day. What do I say about today? Where do I even begin?

My little boy is better. Today was his first full day at school, his first day to play in the neighborhood. He is too thin, too easily cold and spent, and he will likely have more pain over the next few weeks. But today was our first taste of normal life in a long time, and we are all thankful for it.

Normal life. That's what we had today. And tonight, I'm unsettled by it.

Life never presents itself in a tidy fashion. While my little boy went back to school, I prepared for a birthday. Because tomorrow, my baby boy turns two. My baby - my child who died for two minutes and came back to us in July. And my baby - our last baby, meaning that after nearly eight consecutive years, the making-and-raising-babies stage of my life is closing. For years people have told me this would happen. I never believed them.

 

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